


Music of the Night

by abeautifulmessofcontradictions, TheTwoFlamingos, tinyPsycho77



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 21:57:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6168142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abeautifulmessofcontradictions/pseuds/abeautifulmessofcontradictions, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTwoFlamingos/pseuds/TheTwoFlamingos, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinyPsycho77/pseuds/tinyPsycho77
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU The Blacklist/Phantom of the Opera crossover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Music of the Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FrostyBear4](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=FrostyBear4).



> This story was written by tinyPsycho77 for FrostyBear4 (of TheTwoFlamingos) for Valentines Day. A huge thank you to our wonderfully amazing BETA abeautifulmessofcontradictions!!!!
> 
> *note: unfortunately we do not own any of the characters in this story nor do we make any money off of our writings*

Raymond stalked across the bare floor of his damp retreat. The new girl, the ingénue, was giving him fits. She had talent, so much raw talent, but she lacked the discipline to truly persevere. He would see her shine! If only she would commit to him…

He flung the sheet music from his grasp, the pages fluttering to the floor. Trash! It was all for naught if she could not develop the necessary fortitude to become the performer he _knew_ she could be. He paced the confines of his vast underworld empire, his movements jerky and stiff with his rage. Stupid girl!

He railed at the universe, snatching up stacks of musical compositions in leather bindings and stacks of operettas bound with twine as he raged across the room, lobbing things fitfully into the underground lake. She could have the most promising career of any prima soprano in history, and she was throwing it all away. And for what? A pretty face and a wealthy bank account. A score hit the water with a definitive splash. A manor estate and a carriage. Another score followed the first. A home filled with children. He came up short with that last thought; stilled at the edge of the water, his rage cooling rapidly. She was giving it up for…love.

Raymond sank to his knees, the sheet music tumbling from his limp hands, forgotten in his despair. She would never be his. He had thought it would be enough for him, to coach her, to mold her, to make her a star…to love her from a distance. He had been a fool to think he could beguile her into believing he wanted only to see her to fame; he had not even been able to deceive himself.

One hand drifted up to trace the edges of the smooth mask that shielded half of his marred face from the world. He was a monster, after all, as undeserving of her love as a flower trying to bloom in the dead of winter, and just as desperate to reach his sun. This mask was the only thing that could love him now; he would be forced to content himself with its hard, cool embrace.

He knew. Elizabeth would never love him.

*****

Elizabeth checked her make-up one last time in her dressing room mirror. The House was already open and she could hear the audience filling the massive space above her. They would be calling places soon. She preened before the mirror, adjusting her costume for the opening number.

She smiled at her reflection; Tom would be in the audience tonight. The thought made her giddy with a girlhood delight that she’d had few occasions to experience. For too long, her thoughts had been dark, clouded by suspicion, shaded with doubt. Her father’s suicide, her secret lover’s grooming, the late-night practice sessions...it had all taken its toll on her, leaving her lonely and far too serious.

A flutter of excitement beat against her ribs. Tom would propose, she was certain; the years apart had left their mark indelibly on both of them. He would not forgo a second chance with her, she knew. And when he asked, she was determined to say yes. She considered what her life would be like as a Viscountess; an endless whirl of parties and social events, ball gowns and jewels, children and...him. A sadness stole over her; for all of that, she would be giving up music and the stage and her Angel. The thought of leaving her Phantom made her inexplicably sad. She gazed into the mirror, peering into her own eyes, searching for an answer to her choice.

A shadow crept over her countenance in the depths of the mirror. She stepped back as her mentor’s face appeared behind the glass. The Phantom stepped out from the frame and advanced on her, his face blank. In a moment, he was before her, strong hands grasping her wrists as she leaned away from him in fear. _He knew_. Somehow, he always just knew.

One hand shot out to gently caress her face, stilling her beneath his hand. Her fear dissolved at his touch; she had been expecting violence, but he offered tenderness instead. Against her will, she relaxed into him, sighing against his palm. She didn’t understand the effect he had on her; her mind swam through the fog underneath the overwhelming urge to please him. She didn’t understand it, but it was always the same. Her mind felt like it was floating, yet her limbs were heavy, anchored to the ground. She was overcome with the desire to please him, to sing, to give him anything he asked of her.

“Oh my sweet Lizzie, my sweet Angel of Music,” he murmured softly, “Why must you torment me so? Why must you put my heart through this?”  
She whispered apologies to him. She never wanted to hurt him, of course she didn’t. When he was here with her like this it was so hard to think, so difficult to remember why she would ever choose to defy him.

“You’re going to replace me,” he said with finality. “Replace me with that _insolent_ boy, that slave of fashion.”

“No!” she exclaimed, eager to reassure him. “No, I would never.”

“He’s an ignorant _fool_ , your brave young suitor.” He tone took on a hint of impatience.

“I’m sorry...” she trailed off, tears stinging her eyes.

“Oh, my Angel, I loathe to see tears in your eyes.” He gently pulled her body close to his. “Do you really think he can make you happier than I?”

A quiet sob tore from her throat and she hung her head in shame before him. Had she really considered giving this up, giving _him_ up, for glittery dresses and elitism?

He smiled, lowering his face to her bent head. He didn’t like to see her cry, but he wanted her bound to him and if breaking her spirit was required, then he would use anything in his arsenal to achieve it: guilt, fear, dependence. He would bind her to him so tightly that she would never again seek to leave.

“Sing once again with me, our strange duet. My power over you, grows stronger yet, and though you turn from me to glance behind, the Phantom of the Opera is there, inside your mind.” His hands gripped her upper arms tightly.

She came fully under his power then, his voice washing over her in waves. Elizabeth sagged in his embrace and Raymond swept her up in his arms, carrying her through the threshold of her mirror’s frame, into the dark labyrinth that was his world.

*****

Tom knocked insistently on her dressing room door.

“Lizzie...Lizzie open the door!”

There was no response from inside. Tom rested his shoulder against the door-jamb, impatient to see her. He let his mind wander to her performance tonight; she had been radiant, untouchable. She was a rising star in the company, he would help her become a sensation. With the right agents, the right publications, she could command the most premier stages in all of Europe with him at her side, encouraging her from the wings.

He would make millions from her success. He grinned evilly into the darkness of the hall. She would be his star, both on the stage and in the bedroom. He would control her career and she would be his beautiful, compliant wife. He played the steps of his plan out in his head. He would continue to woo her, courting her with flowers and gifts and the sweet words he knew she craved...Little Lottie. And soon, soon he would propose and take her as his wife, and then the true grooming would begin. He would have her obedient and tractable, she would sing only for him and when he permitted it. She would be a star, _his_ star.

Out of the darkness, Gina swished her way to him in the hall. She had spent the evening sulking in her dressing room, he knew, angry at being replaced by the young ingénue that was his Elizabeth.

“Tom, darling, there you are.”

“Gina, good evening. Where is your husband?”

She waved an elegant hand about her head. “Probably standing at my dressing room door like a faithful puppy waiting for me, the pathetic fool.”

Tom snorted; she was magnificent.

Gina sidled closer to him, placing a hand lightly on one of his crossed arms. She gazed up at him, tipping her face up to his expectantly. “Why are _you_ waiting here in the dark?” she inquired saucily. “I wouldn’t have expected you to wait for a woman like a pitiful schoolboy with a crush.”

Tom pushed away from the door, rising to the bait of her words, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “I am not infatuated,” he growled at her. He regained a modicum of his control and stated, more matter-of-factly, “I am protecting a business interest. Think of it as... making an investment.”

“So, you still intend to wed that...putana.” She leaned into him, pressing her breasts against his arm.

“Oh, yes,” he murmured, allowing the scent of Gina’s expensive perfume to surround him.

“Hmmm…” she purred. “Pity.”

“Don’t worry my dove, I shall still have time for you.”

His arms struck out with the speed of a snake uncoiling, wrapping around her corseted waist and bringing her against his stiffness cruelly. He whirled her around, pressing her back against the closed door of Elizabeth’s silent dressing room. Without another thought for his absent beloved, he lowered his mouth to the impish beauty in his arms.

*****

Liz awoke to the soft glow of candlelight surrounding her. The dulcet tones of a piano helped to bring her to full consciousness. Slowly she opened her eyes, the surroundings unfamiliar in their dark foreboding nature. All around her, lit candles licked at the stone walls; as if trying to give warmth to their cold existence. Thick, heavy curtains hung across the iron gate that served as the entrance to her new accommodations. She followed the notes of music until her eyes rested on the black, wool fabric that stretched across his broad back.

He was positioned at the piano, playing softly as she slept. He needed to think, he needed to come up with a way to make her see that her Viscount could not fulfil her as he could. His fingers staked across the ivory keys, the music playing out in time with his anguish. He needed to make her see, he _had_ to make her see. But how?

Elizabeth crawled from the comfortable confines of the giant sleigh bed and padded softly to him on bare feet, the stones cold against her soles. She stopped suddenly behind him, afraid to disturb him, afraid to melt the spell he wound around her. But she had to see him. She was here, he must have brought her with a purpose. It was inevitable, she knew that now. Her last remaining thoughts of Tom were chased from her memory with the haunting strains of the Phantom’s melody.

Curiosity gave her courage to take the last hesitant stepped to him. She reached out a trembling hand to his shoulder, hovering over his body in apprehension. Why was she so scared? A fear she could not name was lodged in the back of her throat, crippling her breath. It tasted of desperation, like the coppery tang of blood and darkness, tinged with stale regret and overwhelming shame. With a strangled breath fighting its way into her lungs, she lowered her hand to touch his shoulder.

Raymond spun around on the stool and leapt to his feet, simultaneously bringing his hand to the right side of his face. He whirled on her in anger and fear, like a cornered wild animal.

“Lizzie,” his voice calmed at the sight of her. “You’re awake.”

“I wanted…” she struggled to put her need into words. “I wanted to be near you.” She lowered her eyes shyly.

His features softened. He reached out a hand to her, then stopped himself, remembering his exposed disfigurement. “A moment, please.”

Elizabeth raised her eyes to him, curious at the sudden change.

He turned from her, picking up his half-mask from the edge of the piano where he had discarded it while he played. When he had it in place, a sigh of relief relaxed through his body and he turned to her once more.

“Did you sleep well, my dear?”

“We’re not...I mean, why are we here? Where are we?” Elizabeth sought answers.

Raymond took a step closer to her. “This is my home. I brought you here.”

“But, why?” she questioned.

He tilted his head to the right, looking so intently at her that she thought he was searching for her soul. “To show you my world.”

“Why...why me?” she truly did not know, did not understand why he had chosen her.

Raymond closed the small distance between them and placed both hands on her shoulders. “Because you have the potential to be great Elizabeth. I can show you, give you, what you need to command the greatest stages around the world. To be loved and adored by all.”

Elizabeth shivered under his hands. His nearness was overwhelming. She felt herself being drawn in by the seductive timbre of his voice. She fought the pull; she needed answers. “And what do _you_ want?”

“To be your Angel of Music. To teach you and guide you. To be...yours.”

Elizabeth’s breath caught in her throat. He was offering himself to her and she wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to such a gift. Her mind raced, combating the draw of his hypnotic voice: _What about Tom?_

“Let me make you great Elizabeth.” He implored. “Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams, purge your thoughts of the life you knew before. Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar, Elizabeth, and you’ll live as you’ve never lived before. Forget about your Viscount,” he murmured.

She raised her eyes to his in surprise; it was as if he had read her very thoughts!

“He isn’t worthy of you. We could be spectacular together. All you have to do is trust me...love me.” His deep voice rolled over her in calming waves, cajoling, convincing, until she swayed forward, unable to resist the power of his voice any longer and he caught her up in his arms.

He swept her up against his chest and carried her swiftly back to his bed. He lowered her onto the downy mattress as if she were made of glass, precious, irreplaceable.

Elizabeth gazed up at him, her expression serene. She reached up one hand to him in invitation, stretching her hand towards him where he stood next to the bed. With a sigh, he sank down next to her.

Raymond traced his fingertips along the contours of her lovely face, drawing them over the bridge of her nose, skirting the line of her jaw, tracing the edges of her eyelids when they closed against the fluttery sensations of his touch.

“So beautiful,” he breathed.

His fingers feathered across the fullness of her lips, savouring their pillowy softness. He ached to taste her; a dull heat settled low in his belly, the same as it did every time he imagined seeking out her lips with his own. He thought he could be eternally happy just to continue looking at her, touching her like this, even if he never kissed her.

He rested his forehead against hers, breath fanning out across her cheek. She opened her eyes beneath him. Could it be...was he _nervous_? Somehow the thought endeared him to her even more; his hesitancy was adorable. She reached up a hand slowly to caress the side of his face that was exposed to her, gentling him with her touch. His brow furrowed in concentration in a look that bordered on pain; he was so unaccustomed to anyone touching him with tenderness.

“Look at me, Angel,” she whispered.

His eyes slid open to gaze at her upturned face.

“What is your name?”

He took a deep, trembling breath. “Raymond,” he breathed against her skin, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

Elizabeth closed her eyes, savouring the sound of it on her lips, “Raymond,” she whispered back, testing it out. She had known him only as a nameless Phantom, her mysterious Angel for so long.

Tenderly, she reached her fingers towards his face, mimicking his earlier exploration of her face. The soft warmth of his left face was in direct contrast to the icy cold ceramic mask that shielded his right side from her gaze. His deep green eyes flickered as she traced along the ridges of the mask.

She smoothed the pad of her thumb along his cheekbone, tracing the edge of his mask where it met his skin at the mid-line of his face. He turned the unblemished side of his face into her palm, nipping at her lightly with his teeth, distracting her from her goal.

She shivered at the sharp feel of his teeth scraping her palm, sending delicious ringlets of desire coiling through her veins.

Elizabeth’s hand slid down along his neck, reaching to cup the back of his neck, drawing his face down close to hers. They gazed at each other for long moments before she slightly increased the pressure of her fingers, bringing his mouth down to hers. Raymond moaned softly at the first touch of her satiny lips against his. Every forbidden thought he’d ever had about her came unbidden to his mind in that moment. Her lips parted on a sigh, allowing him access. His tongue delved into her mouth gently, dancing against hers.

Her moan of passion startled him and he drew back from her, his eyes peered questioningly into hers.

“What’s wrong?”

She drew her hand down his neck, along his arm, feeling the stiff fabric of his suit jacket beneath her palm, until she gripped his hand in her own. Swiftly, she brought his hand to her breast, settling him invitingly against her cleavage. She returned her hand to his neck and urged his mouth back to hers.

Raymond stilled above her in surprise, letting her lips seek his. Never in all his wildest fantasies had he imagined her the aggressor. Overwhelmed by her eagerness, his hand tightened on her breast, exploring her through the thin fabric of her dressing gown.

Elizabeth moved against him instinctively, her body trying to contour itself to his. She whimpered against his mouth beseechingly. Raymond responded, rubbing his thumb across her nipple. Her body surged, thrusting her breast more fully into his hand. With a growl, he rolled her fully onto her back, settling himself between her legs. The ache in his groin was a reminder of the months he had spent dreaming of this impossible moment. He ground himself against her and she gasped into his mouth at the sensation of him hard against her core.

He pulled his mouth away from hers, gasping for breath. “Oh, Lizzie.”

She moved against him again, lifting her hips to meet his, undulating beneath him.

He was completely overcome by the revelation that she wanted him, too. He pushed himself up and quickly shuffled off the bed. He reached out a hand and assisted Elizabeth in standing as well. He had hoped for finesse, had wanted this to be slow and gentle, but her passion ignited his, catapulting them both into a frenzied race towards completion. Quickly he stepped behind her, his fingers working furiously at undoing the criss-crossed laces that held her corset together. When he had her free, he bared her shoulders and tugged away the constricting fabric from her body, like unwrapping a present long overdue.

She turned in his arms and he glimpsed her smooth, ivory skin for the first time. His hands swept up to tangle in her curls, moulding her mouth to his once more. He felt her hands busy at his chest.

Her hands bravely travelled up the expanse of his chest, fingers toying with the buttons; working them quickly out of their holdings. With each patch of skin revealed, she touched and caressed; trying to commit his texture to memory. When his shirt finally came off, she wasted no time burying her exploring fingers in the ample smattering of light brown hair that covered his chest.

Raymond sighed against her lips as she released his confining clothing. It had been a lifetime since someone had touched him with kindness. His mind felt like he was floating in a sea of happiness, buoyed about by the waves of her adoration lapping gently at his body. Until her wandering hands found the rippled and bubbling skin of his right side and shoulder. She paused, unsure and he was suddenly ripped from the moment, torn from the warm place in his mind where he believed she could actually love a monster like him.

She stepped back in shock.

“Elizabeth,” he pleaded, reaching for her.

“What happened to you?” she asked.

He could only stare at her in regret. He swallowed around the lump that had rapidly formed in his throat at her refusal.

“It was...there was...a fire.” He turned from her to sit on the bed, his legs suddenly unable to bear his weight any longer.

She was frozen to the floor, riveted to her spot by his confession, her eyes wide with compassion that he mistook for disgust. “I...will you tell me about it?” she asked gently.

Raymond sighed; he had known that this moment would come eventually. The truth could not be avoided forever.

He ran a hand over his head in defeat and raised his eyes to hers, searching his soul for the courage to share this with her.

She waited patiently for his tale, crossing her arms over her breasts self-consciously, encouraging him with her silence.

“When I was a young man, I was an apprentice for a well-known violin maker. One night, there was a fire in his workshop. I found his daughter crying under the stairs and carried her outside into the snow. A beam collapsed on top of me when I went back inside. I couldn’t save her father.” He refused to meet her eyes, so great was his shame.

Elizabeth stood, rooted to the floor in recognition.

“You...it was you?”

“You remember.” It was not a question.

She shook her head. “Not everything, no, just flashes of flame and smoke and being carried out by someone. I had always thought it was my father who saved me, that he went back in for someone else but never made it back out.”

“You were young,” he explained. “I didn’t think you would remember me.”

Her face tensed with the effort of her memory. “I remember...a boy...a teenager who lived above the shop and helped my father. You were learning his trade...a musician. You were...an orphan; he took you in. Talented, I remember you would play for me...”

“I couldn’t save him. I’ve never forgiven myself; I don’t expect you to.”

Elizabeth is brought out of her reverie at the tone of dejected resignation in his voice. She crosses to him carefully, her arms slowly unwrapping from her body, baring herself to him once more.

“No...I would never blame you. Raymond,” she lifted a hand to caress his mask, “you saved me. You tried to save him. And in that night, you lost your family as well.”

He closed his eyes, unable to meet the intensity of her gaze, to see the pity reflected there for his pathetic state of being.

He felt her cool lips against his skin, his cheek burning beneath her touch.

“And you’ve been alone all this time?” the sadness tinging her words made him cringe.

“So have you,” he replied. “You poured yourself into ballet to fill the void left by his absence.”

Her hands sifted through his tightly cropped hair, pulling him to her. He rested his forehead just between the hollow of her breasts.

“Oh, the wasted time,” he heard her whisper as she pressed another kiss to the crown of his head.

Elizabeth held him for a long moment until she could no longer bear the overwhelming need to show him exactly how much she cared for him. Her fingers found the line of his jaw, tipping his chin up to meet her gaze, drawing his head away from her body.

Her eyes met his, drowning him in her gaze. Her hands slowly ghosted down his neck to his shoulders, gently pushing his shirt off his frame.

Raymond sucked in a pained breath at her investigation of his ruined flesh. Her fingertips traced the alternating patterns of smooth and damaged skin, one hand on each side of his chest. He watched her face as she touched him, expecting revulsion, terrified to see her disgust, but to his amazement, he saw only curiosity, compassion, and the impossible dream of her love reflected back at him.

His eyes fluttered closed when she pressed her lips to the scars tracing his right shoulder, her tongue darting out shyly to sweep over his skin. He didn’t know what to do with the emotions coursing through him. No one had ever...loved him like this. He had never imagined anyone could.

She straightened once again, her hands on either side of his face.

“Raymond,” her voice whispered against him, “Show me; I want to see you.”

Her fingers edged along the contours of his mask, seeking his permission. He reached one hand up to cover hers, and together they lifted the cool ceramic away from his face, revealing the tragic beauty he had kept hidden for 15 years.

She couldn’t stop the tears from leaping to her eyes as she beheld his raw honesty, overcome by the trust he placed in her. She trailed her fingers over the burn scars tracing the right side of his forehead, along his temple, across his cheek, and beneath his jaw. What he saw as ugly, she admired as a badge of courage. He had _saved_ her. How could he not see?

He wanted to hide himself from her; he was undeserving of her affection. He didn’t know how she could bear to touch him, to look at him. He couldn’t bear to look at himself. The mask was as much for him as for others.

He nearly came undone when she pressed her lips to the puckered skin of his temple.

“Please, you don’t have to,” he whispered on a sob.

“Shh…” Elizabeth cooed to him softly.

She took her time, worshipping him with her lips, trailing soft kisses along each scar and blemish. He quaked with the force of his suppressed sobs wracking his body. No one had ever shown him such devotion.

“You are beautiful, Raymond.”

He looked at her, trying to discern if she was being genuine. He couldn’t find any trace of deceit in her eyes and he felt his love for her grow even more. He coaxed her head down to his, resting against her, cheek to cheek.

She stroked the fine hair on his chest, her need for him flaring inside her.

“Raymond,” she whispered in his ear, “make love to me.”

She arched her body against his, extracting a moan from his throat. The fire from earlier reignited between them; he surged up, claiming her mouth in an intense kiss. She clung to him, afraid that if she let go, he would retreat back into his seclusion.

His hands worked at removing the rest of her garments, taking the time to kiss and lick each sliver of exposed skin. At her behest, he stood and removed the rest of his clothing. He maneuvered her to the bed, stretching out beside her, his fingers never leaving her body.

Elizabeth rolled him onto his back, she peered down at him through hooded eyes. To her he was absolutely...splendid, he was everything she could have hoped for.

Raymond glanced up at the goddess above him, he was momentarily struck with the knowledge that she was still engaged to the Viscount. He immediately pushed those thoughts aside; she was here with him now that’s all that mattered. He caressed every inch of her body that he could reach, he couldn’t get enough of her.

She leaned down, locking her mouth over his, conveying all her thoughts and emotions into one elegant kiss. She swept her tongue across his lips, begging for entry; which he gladly granted. The romance of the moment was quickly escalating into an inferno of emotions and within a matter of moments, both Raymond and Elizabeth, were completely engulfed, their passion reaching an intangible high.

Unable to take the intense heat, Raymond gracefully flipped Elizabeth under him. He trailed his lips along the edge of her jaw, nipping lightly. Her hands couldn’t remain idle, they touched and caressed every previously explored area of his body, and double backing to make sure nothing was left unattended.

Raymond kissed his way down the column of her throat, leaving a loving open-mouthed kiss over her vocal cords. His left hand stroked up her body, past her hip, along her rib cage and gently cupped her breast. She moaned and arched into his hand.

“Raymond,” his name was nothing more than a breath but it resounded loudly in the labyrinth.

His mouth continued down her body, spurred on by her gasps of pleasure, until his lips closed around right nipple. With caution he licked and sucked at her skin, revealing in the sounds that tore from her body as he worked her. The hand that was teasing her breast resumed its path, changing directions and moving south to her most intimate area.

Elizabeth spasmed under her angel when his fingers slipped past her folds, tenderly pressing against her clit. One of her hands shot up to grip the back of his head; the other dropping down between them to return the pleasure he had bestowed on her.

His groan reverberated throughout the entire chamber as her delicate fingers wrapped around his aching need. He bit down on her breast; evoking a cry of pleasure from her.

He pulled his mouth off her breast and carved a path of fiery kisses down the planes of her stomach, stopping briefly to dip his tongue into her belly button.

She tried to maintain her hold on his member, but the further down he slid the looser her grip became until she was forced to let go. She opted instead to occupy her hands with experiencing the sensation of his shorn hair, she raked her fingers over the buzzed locks, enjoying the little shiver of pleasure he omitted every time she pass a particularly sensitive spot at the nape of his neck.

Raymond continued his blazing kisses until he came to the apex of her sex, he faltered slightly, this was new territory for him and he didn’t want scare her off. He lifted his head to catch her eyes.

“Elizabeth.”

She looked down at his face, the question spoken loud in his eyes. She nodded her consent and almost screamed when she felt his mouth on her.

Raymond couldn’t hold back the groan of pleasure as he tasted her for the first time, she was absolutely exquisite, like fine ambrosia on his tongue. He applied himself to the task of making her come undone with his mouth. He licked and nipped and sucked at her; using her moans as guidance. He felt her fingers dig sharply into the back of his skull, her body quivered and his name fell from her lips in a breathless moan. He tasted her juices on his tongue and couldn’t suppress the smile of satisfaction; he had done this, him, the scarred, disfigured Phantom, had made her come apart with pleasure. It was his name that she called out, his head that she clutched in ecstasy.

He rested his head against her still quaking thigh, listening and feeling her come down from her high. As best as she could, she reached down to cup his face, their eyes locked and she gently tugged him upwards until he was settled between her thighs; his arousal poised at her entrance, his lips ghosting over hers.

“Elizabeth...Lizzie,” he exhaled her name, his body trembling with the need to be inside her.

She reached between them with a sure hand and wrapped her fingers around his length; guiding him into her body. Her lips closed over his; swallowing his gasp as he penetrated her. She arched into him, he body slowly adjusting to his size. He resisted the urge to bury himself in one go, knowing she needed time to get used to his intrusion.

“Raymond, yes.” she quaked as her body accepted him fully.

Once he was buried to the hilt, he stilled; his emerald green eyes bored into her sapphire blues. No matter how much he wanted her, he would wait for her to give consent.

She took a moment to catch her breath. While she was no virgin, he was more than anything she has ever experienced and she was overcome by the sensations his body was creating.

“Are you okay, my love?” He gently stroked her cheek with his knuckles.

“Yes, you just...you feel so good.” She rocked experimentally against him; earning herself a groan and shallow thrust of approval.

Her body pressed against his in response, giving him the green light to start moving. Planting one arm at her side and using the other to hook one of her legs around his hip, he started a slow, tender rhythm; pulling out completely before slowly inching back in.

She clutched desperately at his lower back, begging him to increase the pace of his strokes. He refused her, he wanted to make this last as long as possible before she returned to her Viscount.

They made love slowly, affectionately; whispering sweet nothings into each other's ears and soon they both felt the build-up of pressure in their bodies.

“Ray, faster please.” She implored him.

Giving in to her wishes, he pulled her leg higher and drove into her. Their breathing became laboured and the both raced towards the finish line. She was panting and gasping for breath as he plunged into her, he was hitting all the right spots and it wasn’t very long until she shattered around him; his name echoing around the chamber. Feeling her inner muscles clenching around him sent him over the edge and several hard thrust later, he spilled deep inside her; her name exited his body in a low cry.

He collapsed beside her, chest heaving, trying to pull in the oxygen his body needed. Elizabeth quickly curled up next to him, her body chilling rapidly in the cool dungeon of the abode. He felt her shiver and reached down, grabbing the thick black blanket and tossing it over their bodies.

*****

Tom closed the door to Gina’s dressing room, he glanced around the corridor, ensuring that his exit from the diva’s room went unnoticed.

He moved with purpose down the hall to Elizabeth’s door. Surely she would be back by now. He hadn’t meant to get so carried away, but Gina’s ‘talents’ were unrivalled and before he knew it, he had spent several hours with her. He would need to construct an appropriate alibi to explain away his absence.

Knocking gently on her door, he announced himself and turned the handle, surprised to find it still locked. She was still gone? His fear of discovery quickly changed into concern for Elizabeth’s safety, and fear for his fortune. She always returned directly to her dressing room after a performance and rarely left the theatre. She had to be somewhere on the premises. With a last, furtive glance at her locked door, he set off to find Madame Kate to help him search.

*****

Elizabeth awoke hours later to find herself cuddled warmly into Raymond’s side. She was in the Angel’s bed! He was curled around her on his side, her head nestled against his chest, his fine hair tickling her nose with every breath. She sighed against him, raising a hand to run her fingers through the hair. She was infatuated with the feel of him.

He groaned against her temple, a low deep sound that awakened dark, primal things in her belly.

“Good morning, my love,” he murmured, his lips in her hair.

“Good morning,” she tilted her head up, silently asking for his lips.

He met her lips with his own, sweetly awakening both of them. He pulled her close to him, so grateful for this moment.

She sighed against his lips, pulling back. “I have to go back,” she murmured softly, regretfully.

“Not yet,” he pulled her tighter to his body, not ready to give up this euphoric feeling that was settled deep inside him, “I loathe to send you back to the man.”

“What are we going to do?” Her voice was small. She hated and feared disappointing him. “I’ve promised to marry him.”

Anger suddenly filled his every pore, his body tensed at the reminder that, while he had Elizabeth, she would never truly be his; not as long as the Viscount was around. It made his blood boil thinking about what that man was doing to his Angel, using her talents just to make himself rich, it sickened him. But should he tell her? Would she believe him?

Feeling the tension radiating from his body made Elizabeth shrink back in fear of him. “Please, Raymond, don’t hurt him. He loves me.”

Raymond let out a heavy sigh and untangled himself from her warmth, quickly he rose from the bed and slipped back into the confines of his clothing, keeping his back to her the entire time. His Angel was so blind to her fiancé’s misdeeds that he felt compelled, almost obligated; to be the one to shatter her perfect dream. He slipped his mask back over his face, trying desperately not to lash out at her naiveté.

Elizabeth sat up against the pillows, confused and bereft. She drew the blanket around herself protectively, shielding her nakedness from his anger. She didn’t understand his sudden change in demeanor. Was he going to throw her out now? Had she said something wrong?

Her heart broke a little as she watched him don his mask again, hiding himself away from her as he did the rest of the world. Was she no better than everyone else now?

“I’m sorry,” she whispered desperately. She sat, rooted to the spot, afraid to approach him, though she wanted nothing more than to reach out and soothe his anger with her touch. “I can’t leave you and I can’t hurt him. He’s a good man, Raymond, he deserves better than this.”

He whirled around, eyes blazing behind dark features, “He’s not who you think he is Lizzie, he’s not…” his shoulders sagged as the anger raced from his system, “Just go, go back to your Viscount.”

He spun back towards the piano, stalking over to it. He angrily sat down and began hammering the ivories into a dark tune. He needed to release his hatred.

She recoiled against the mound of pillows, tears flooding her eyes at his harsh words. She couldn’t bear to watch him any longer, lost in his own private anguish. She buried her face in her hands and sobbed out her misery.

His fingers faltered as he heard her tears fall, self-hated washing over him; he knew she was crying because of him, yet he was at a loss as to what to do. He wanted to turn and go to her, to tell her that he was sorry and that he loved her. He wanted to tell her not to go back to Tom and to stay with him forever. But he didn’t, he couldn’t, he was nothing compared to the Viscount. He was a hideous monster who knew nothing of the world outside of the Opera house.

Her dark thoughts plagued her until she could think them no longer. A single phrase continued to repeat in the back of her mind, giving a strange rhythm to her weeping. _He’s not who you think he is._  She needed an answer. She forced herself to rise, tears still streaking her face, and wrapped the blanket around herself. She crossed to where he sat before the piano, playing his furious tune.

She stood beside him as he steadfastly ignored her. Unable to bear his distance, she laid a hand on his shoulder; that was his undoing. His fingers stilled on the piano, angry notes dying on the cool, damp air.

“Please,” she begged him and he could hear her tears thick in her lovely voice, “Raymond, what did you mean? Who is he?”

He dropped his chin to his chest in defeat on a shuddering sigh. Could he tell her? Should he? Surely, it would be her undoing. And yet… if he didn’t, he knew she would never truly be his. His thoughts warred within his mind; if he told her, she would resent him and if he didn’t, she might never know. He needed her to be able to make an informed choice.

“Elizabeth,” He turn to fully face her, his eyes pleading with her, “Lizzie, Tom...he’s not the man you know. He’s...he’s only concerned with his own gain; he cares nothing for your future or career past what it can do for him. It pains me, my Angel, to be the bearer of this terrible news, no woman should ever find out that the man who claims to love her is just using her for his own.”

She gasped at his admission, stepping back from him, her hand falling away. “No!” she cried, bringing her hand to cover her mouth. “No, he wouldn’t!”

He rose from the piano, his hand outstretched towards her, “Lizzie…”

She backed away from him, stumbling on the uneven stone. “I...I don’t, that can’t be true...”

“If you refuse to believe me then, go find out what he does when he’s not with you.”

Elizabeth turned from him and sobbed into her hands, unbelieving.

He wanted to go to her; the sight of her weeping tore at his heart, but he knew her tears were not for him, but for her precious Viscount.

“Why are you doing this?” her anguished voice tore at his chest. “You are just trying to make me believe Tom is a monster!”

“Go to him, then, if you don’t believe me. Go find him and ask him yourself. I would begin your search somewhere in the vicinity of Prima Donna Gina’s dressing room,” he spat his words at her.

The sharp slap echoed in the cavernous space. He knew he deserved it and the sting was almost welcome, a physical distraction from the internal pain he felt.

Roughly, he grabbed her by the arms and pulled her harshly against him. Her shocked gasp was swallowed up by his lips on hers. A moment later, he pulled his mouth away from her.

“You are _mine_ , never forget that. But if you need to assuage your conscience, then go to him and see for yourself. But rest assured, my darling Elizabeth, that I will _never_ let you go.”

With that, he spun away from her and crossed swiftly to a far wall. Ducking behind a curtain, he pulled a lever, illuminating her path through the twisting corridors that would return her to her dressing room...and Tom.

She spun away from him tearfully and made her confused way back to a life she wasn’t sure she understood anymore.

*****

Rather than returning to her dressing room to wallow in her own self-pity, Elizabeth quickly changed her clothing and left again, hailing a carriage as she left the opera house. She bid the driver take her to the cemetery and sat back against the upholstered seat, resting her heavy head. Her thoughts felt weighty inside her skull; she needed a moment’s reprieve from her emotions. She closed her eyes against the gentle sway of the carriage and soon the driver was rousing her gently.

After paying the driver, she made her way slowly to her father’s gravesite, humming to herself the lullaby he used to play her. She knelt at his headstone, resting her hands against the frozen marble.

“Father,” she whispered into the darkness, her warm breath coiling in wispy tendrils in the cold air. “Father, I seek your guidance. I am so lost.” She bowed her head in prayer.

Always before, when she had come to her father’s grave for advice, she left feeling lighter, directed, sure. But now, she felt nothing but confusion and a gnawing sense of distrust. It was as though his voice had forsaken her, leaving her to make this decision on her own.

She pictured their house, before his death, the workshop, the violins hanging in various states of finish, the man she adored, his hands moving assuredly over wood and string, polishing, bending, shaping. And a boy. The boy in the corner of the shop, watching her father work, learning his trade, following his careful instructions. She saw herself playing in the corner with her doll and some curled shavings of wood that had fallen from the workbench.

That is what her life _had_ been like. Before the fire.

The vision behind her eyes changed; red and orange flames licking against the corners of her mind. Heat and a searing pain in her wrist, white-hot agony burning into her memory. And strong arms around her, dragging her from beneath the workbench, carrying her away from that hell.

Her eyes opened on a scream and she distantly realized it was her own voice that had made the sound.

“Elizabeth.”

She turned, eyes wide and frightened, still lost in her memory, to find Tom standing several feet away from her, concern etching his features.

“Tom,” she whispered, unsure of her feelings towards him in that moment. He was safe, he was certain; her future with him would be easily mapped out. But was that what she wanted?

He moved towards her, arms open, and lifted her to her feet. “What are you doing out here in the cold?”

“How did you find me here?” she countered, avoiding his question.

“I know you,” he smiled. “This is where you always come when you need to think. Darling, what’s wrong?”

She could not answer him; she didn’t even know herself how to put her emotions into words. Instead she just stared at him, lost in her own turmoil.

“Elizabeth, I’m worried about you.” his voice was beseeching. “I came to pick you up from your dressing room tonight and found you gone. I was so concerned; I’ve been searching for you all night. Where have you been?”

“All night…” her voice trailed off, remembering where she _had_ spent her evening and how she had spent it. She felt her body tense with the memory of Raymond’s hands on her, her cheeks suffusing with heat as she recalled her own wanton trembling beneath the conquest of his body.

He clutched her shoulders more firmly, bringing her back from her reverie. “Elizabeth?”

She shook herself awake, meeting his eyes suddenly. “Tom, why do you love me?” she asked bluntly.

He was taken aback by her question and struggled to formulate an appropriate answer. “I...well, darling you’re beautiful and talented. I can’t imagine loving anyone else.”

She heard the lie in his voice even as she saw the evidence of his betrayal, her eyes coming to rest on the smudge of red on the pristine white of his collar, the unmistakable imprint of lips mocked her from afar. The distinctive shade of the opera’s own Prima Donna, Madame Gina.

Anger welled up inside her, her Angel had been right about Tom. Instantly she grew cold, but not because of the chilled air around her.

“Then tell me, _beloved_ , why would you seek another’s comforts while I was away?” Her words were clipped, the venom dripping haphazardly from her tongue.

Tom froze; he regarded her with a wary look, “Whatever are you talking about, my love?”

“Do you take me for a fool?!” she raised her voice, shrugging out of his embrace.

“My dearest, it’s not what you think,” Tom desperately tried to formulate a valid excuse, “I was worried sick when I couldn’t find you. I searched high and low for you. Gina found me and inquired. I asked if she had seen you, or knew where you were. She must have noticed how fraught with worry I was because she tried to comfort me in a way that was not welcome. Please, Elizabeth...please, my Little Lottie...I love you.”

“Save your words!” she demanded. “I don’t need them. But you might, when you explain yourself to her husband.”

A murderous look crossed Tom’s features. Gone was the tender, loving fiancé who, moments ago, was showing such concern for his betrothed. In his place stood a man faced with the possibility of losing everything he had schemed to achieve. He advanced on her, jaw clenched and body tense with rage.

She recoiled from his anger, fear taking the place of her earlier indignation. She had never seen him like this before and for the first time, she was frightened of him.

“You aren’t going to tell anyone, anything.” His words were menacing and dark.

He reached for her, for what purpose she did not know, but she knew enough to fear it.

She sidestepped away from him, darting across the frozen grass to keep her distance. He advanced on her, anger in his eyes.

Elizabeth stumbled backwards, her heel catching on the hem of her dress on the uneven ground. She stumbled and went down hard, her head glancing off the corner of a nearby headstone.

“Lizzie!” A voice that was not Tom’s own made him whip around. A dark figure materialized from the shadows, sweeping through the walkways with an inhuman grace and speed.

Raymond blew past him to kneel at her side, cradling her head in his hands.

“No, no,” he murmured over her prone form. He gasped in relief when she opened her eyes.

“Raymond?” her vision was swimming before her, the pounding in her skull made her wince with pain.

“Are you alright?” fear for her safety tinged his words.

She cringed, “I don’t know...I think so. I’m dizzy,” her voice sounded so small and faint to him.

He propped her shoulders against the nearest stone. He unbuckled the cape around his shoulders and bunched it against the hard stone, helping her rest her head gently on the improvised cushion.

Tom shook with ire. How dare this...this creature lay hands on his property? In a frenzied haze, he drew his sword and rushed towards the cloaked figure.

“Get away from her!”

Raymond stood swiftly at the sound of steel whispering against its scabbard, freeing his own slender rapier from the sheath at his hip.

With more power than grace, Tom thrust his blade straight for the Phantom's heart.

Raymond laughed at the young Viscount’s impudence, easily sweeping his thrust aside. “You ignorant _fool_ , you will pay for what you’ve done to her.”

Raymond sliced the air with his own weapon in an upward motion, catching Tom in the cheek with the tip of his sword.

Enraged, Tom struck again, raising his arm high; bringing it down in a steep arch. Raymond blocked the blow with little effort, his patience was running thin with this man. He needed to end this now and ensure that Lizzie was not seriously injured.

“You are so unworthy of her,” Raymond baited, raising his anger, making him even more unsteady on his feet.

“And I suppose you would be better suited?” Tom spat back, his sword cut through the air, aiming for Raymond’s throat.

“Oh, undoubtedly.” Raymond parried. “In fact, shall I describe for you just exactly _how_ well suited we have already been for each other?”

Tom stood stock still, the hatred he felt for the man across from him was unlike anything he had felt for any other living being. With a cry of rage, he flew at the older man, his sword slashing erratically as he tried to stab anything, anywhere, to assuage his own wounded pride.

In triumph, Raymond deflected Tom’s blows and drove the point of his own sword deep into the Viscount’s chest, spearing his traitorous heart for his Lizzie.

Tom fell, gasping, at the Phantom’s feet, hands clutching at the blade buried inside his chest.

Raymond glared down at him in disgust. “Now,” he demanded of the dying man, “beg her forgiveness.”

Tom choked on the blood slowly gurgling up his throat. His eyes glared defiantly up at his opponent.

“Beg her.” His voice was calm and low. He grasped the hilt of his rapier and dug it slowly deeper into the man’s body.

Tom writhed on the end of the rapier and choked out a garbled apology to the woman he had wronged before slumping over onto the cold, hard ground.

Raymond dropped the sword, the dead man already forgotten, and ran to her. “Lizzie, my love,” he murmured as he knelt by her side once more.

“Raymond…” she whispered and slumped into his arms, overcome.

Fearfully, he gathered her against his chest and carried her back to the opera house, returning with her to his underground lair once more.

*****

For the third time in 24 hours, Elizabeth found herself awakening in the Phantom’s bed. She opened her eyes to find herself on her side, facing his hunched back where he sat on the edge of the bed across from her. She reached out a hand tentatively to touch his back and felt him stiffen beneath the soft fabric of his shirt. He turned his body on the bed to face her, one knee bent against the mattress for balance.

“Elizabeth,” his voice was quite, concerned. “How are you feeling?”

She took a moment to consider his question, focusing on the pounding of her head. She touched the fingers of one hand to her temple, eyes closing briefly. “My head hurts,” she admitted.

“Would you like some water?” he offered.

“No, I’ll be alright,” she murmured. She reached out a hand to him across the vast expanse of their bed.

Hesitantly, he covered her fingers with his palm, allowing himself to be absolved by her touch.

“Tom?” she inquired quietly.

“Dead.”

Her eyes closed, in regret or relief he didn’t know. He felt that he should apologize for causing her pain, though he knew he had been protecting her.

Elizabeth pushed herself up from the bed until she was sitting as well. She didn’t know what to say to him; so many emotions were churning inside her. Sadness at the loss of the man she believed she loved, anger at the man before her for taking another life, and relief at the prospect of being able to love him without hindrance.

Raymond smiled at her, the glint in his eyes set off bells in her mind. “It’s for the best, my Angel. He would have come between us.”

Elizabeth looked at him with bewilderment on her face. Slowly, she pulled her hand away from his and rose from the bed. She paced back and forth running over the last few hours. This was all so surreal: Tom’s betrayal, then his death, the Phantom’s confession, their confessions, it seemed...almost too good to be true.

“Is it really that easy for you?” she whirled on him. “To take a life and just move on? Are you really that callous?”

Raymond stood from the bed to face her. “Lizzie, taking a life is never easy, but it had to be done, he would have never let you go. We would never be together, I had no choice,” Raymond fixed her with a purposeful gaze, “You are _mine_!”

She wheeled on him, crossing to him, beating her fists against his chest. “You wanted this! You needed me to doubt him so that there was no other choice BUT you!”

Raymond stilled, her furious hands, catching them in his own and drawing her tightly against his chest. “I needed you to see him for what he truly was, so you could decide.”

She sagged against him suddenly, sobbing against his chest, her tears streaming down her face. He was right, and that was the most difficult revelation of the day to accept. It would be so easy, to allow him to explain away her fears.

He wrapped his arms around her shaking body, “Oh, my sweet, sweet Elizabeth. Please believe me that killing him was not something I had intended, or even accounted for. I wanted only to protect you; I _needed_ to protect you.”

She lifted her tear-streaked face to meet his. She saw the honesty, the love and warmth in his eyes, and felt all the previous anguish drain from her body. She reached up and tenderly removed the mask from his face; the pads of her fingertips softly tracing the pattern of marred skin that was hidden beneath.

“You’re always protecting me.”

His breath shuddered in his chest at her touch. He felt so unworthy of her. He had accused Tom of the same, but the truth was, he felt it himself. She was perfection and he was certain he would never feel deserving of her love. He covered her hand with his own and said the only thing he could that would ever come close to expressing what she meant to him.

“I love you, Elizabeth.”

She looked at him as if it was the first time she was truly _seeing_ him. She reached deep down inside of her mind, her body, and her soul and knew without a shadow of a doubt that she loved him, too. With everything she had.

“I love you too, Raymond. The love I thought I had for Tom is nothing compared to what I feel for you. You are my Angel of Music...and of my heart.”

He brought his lips to hers in a soul-searching kiss, melding their tongues together in a duet as melodic as any they could have sung. His hands snaked around her waist, drawing her closer to him.

“No more talk of darkness; forget these wide-eyed fears. I'm here, nothing can harm you; my words will warm and calm you. Lizzie, let me be your freedom, let daylight dry your tears. I'm here, with you, beside you, to guard you and to guide you,” Raymond held her tight to him. “You alone can make my song take flight. Help me make the music of the night.”

Elizabeth nuzzled her face in the warmth of his neck. “In sleep you sang to me, in dreams you came. That voice which calls to me and speaks my name. And do I dream again, for now I find _my_ Phantom of the Opera is there, inside my mind.”

He swept her off her feet and carried her swiftly to the grand piano across the vast open expanse of his home. He laid her body across the closed lid, his eyes roving over her greedily. She arched her back off the smooth wood of the piano, allowing his hands access to the delicate hook-and-eyes binding the back of her dress. When he had freed her from the confines of fabric, her breasts springing free for his taking, he lowered his head to her.

Elizabeth moaned at the touch of his tongue on the ivory globes of her flesh. He nipped lightly at her skin, drawing small bits into his mouth, suckling her gently against his tongue. He kissed along her ribs, trailing his tongue to her navel, dipping in and around the hollow there as he sought out in the direction of his prize.

Her body bucked off the piano at the first touch of his lips on her swollen sex. She was on fire already and he’d barely touched her. Raymond’s tongue dipped into her cleft, lapping at her nectar as though she was his only sustenance.

Her body clenched around his tongue, making him smile against her heated skin. He would make her writhe before he gave her what she so desperately craved; he would imprint his mark on her so deeply that she would never again question her feelings for him. Acting on instinct, he plunged one finger, then two into her dampness, making her squeal in response. Soon his combined efforts had her trembling uncontrollably, clutching frantically at the sides of his head, urging him to finish her. With a triumphant thrust of his tongue, he sucked all of her into his mouth and drove his fingers into her, flush against the pleasure point buried deep in her abdomen, sending her spiraling over the edge of her own pocket of bliss.

She cried out, the sounds of her release echoing off the walls of the cavernous space. Her cries were their own kind of music and he drank them in as desperately as he did the melodies they created together on the stage.

When she had finally ceased her quivering and her legs lay slackly off the edge of the lid, he climbed up her body to press his lips to hers again. His tongue slipped between her pliant lips and she tasted herself on him. He pressed his hips into her and she felt the long, solid length of his arousal through his tuxedo pants. She was certain that his trousers would be stained with the evidence of her pleasure when they were done. She wound her legs around him, pulling him deeper into her. He slid off her, bringing her with him as he dragged her to the edge of the flat, cool surface.

He stepped back from her for a moment, quickly releasing himself and positioning his erection at her center. With a powerful thrust, he entered her, pulling her legs around his waist again. He spanned her hips with his hands, gaining leverage to drive deeper into her. He rolled his hips in concert with her undulations beneath him.

Elizabeth was completely at his mercy, allowing him to control the pace and cadence of their lovemaking. Her position didn’t allow her to touch him, so she was forced to lay back and simply receive his attentions, able only to respond with the pull and drag of her hips against his and the delicate clenching of her inner muscles around him.

Raymond drove into her again and again, forcing her to tighten around him. He needed to feel her pleasure once again, to hear her murmur and scream his name, needed it like he needed the air to breathe. He reached a hand between them, pressing his thumb to the tiny bundle of nerves, rotating the digit slowly until he felt her orgasm build and crest, spilling her satisfaction over his length.

He held her as she shivered out her delightful little spasms. He leaned over her, pressing a kiss to her forehead while she came down. He buried himself deep inside, keeping still as he maneuvered them so that he was sitting on the bench. Now that she had the ability to touch him, Elizabeth ran her hands over every inch of his body. His hands crept up the length of her smooth back, allowing her to command their pace as she rode him.

Elizabeth threw back her body back as she undulated her hips over him. The sight of her bared to him and the sound of her hands crashing down on the piano as she leaned backwards; creating their own erotic opera made Raymond’s teeth clench as he felt himself nearing his release. He pulsed inside her, reaching deeper into her core. She cried out in unison with him as he exploded inside her. He leaned into her and his mouth found hers, closing over her and drinking in her screams as she detonated around him again, his release triggering her own.

Trembling, their mouths drew apart, Elizabeth resting her forehead against his. Raymond’s chest was heaving with the effort of his orgasm. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, fingers playing lightly against his skin, dewy with a fine layer of perspiration. She sighed, rolling her shoulders and pushing herself off the keys and back against his chest.

Raymond’s hands trailed up her back to tangle in her hair, holding her head in place so he could gaze at her beauty. She stilled beneath his adoring look, both of them breathless still.

Raymond cradled her body to his and slowly stood, without breaking their connection; he walked them back to their bed. Carefully he sat on the edge of the bed, their eyes locked onto each other. Blindly, one of his hands skimmed across the surface of the black satin, sliding under his pillow. His fingers curled around the cool band that he had hidden there long ago.

“Say you'll share with me, one love, one lifetime. Say the words and I will follow you. Share each day with me each night, each morning.” Raymond held the ring in her line of vision. The diamond catching the candle light and sparkling against her face.

Elizabeth felt her breath catch in her throat, tears sprang to her eyes. Without words, she allowed him to slip the ring on her finger.

“Say you love me”

“Elizabeth, you know I do.”


End file.
